Dear John McCain,

Thursday, 17 May 2007

I want you to think back for a moment. Make sure it’s quiet and you are alone. Sit down. Be comfortable. Have a cold drink.

Now, think back. See the five and one half years you were a prisoner of war in Vietnam. While being stabbed, stripped naked, beaten, beaten, beaten, offered freedom, beaten, beaten, beaten for years… all the promises that you made. Not only the promises to yourself and your family. The promises you made to God.

Don’t you fight this. Remember it. Remember the words and how bright they were in the surrounding darkness. How they helped you. How they were iron and alloyed you in a world of pain, humiliation, and constant discomfort. How you knew you would keep them and that is what gave them the power to help you, to stand up to it all.

Now, you don’t have to answer me, or anyone else. Answer only for yourself.

Have you kept those promises? What would the man living it up in the Hanoi Hilton from ’67 to ’73 have to say about the man you are today?

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A certain Father had a family of Sons, who were forever
quarreling among themselves. No words he could say did the least
good, so he cast about in his mind for some very striking example
that should make them see that discord would lead them to
misfortune.

One day when the quarreling had been much more violent than usual
and each of the Sons was moping in a surly manner, he asked one
of them to bring him a bundle of sticks. Then handing the bundle
to each of his Sons in turn he told them to try to break it. But
although each one tried his best, none was able to do so.

The Father then untied the bundle and gave the sticks to his Sons
to break one by one. This they did very easily.

“My Sons,” said the Father, “do you not see how certain it is
that if you agree with each other and help each other, it will be
impossible for your enemies to injure you? But if you are divided
among yourselves, you will be no stronger than a single stick in
that bundle.”